1850, when without a struggle her happy spirit took its flight, after nine days of acute suffering, during which she was reduced to a mere skeleton. Thus died Eliza Kenny Gore, in the 13th year of her age. She is now in glory with her dear Redeemer, joining the happy spirits of those thousands of little ones whom Christ loved while they were upon the earth, and who believed in Christ as their Saviour, and are now around his throne singing his praises. May you, my dear children, seek the Lord in the days of your youth. May Christ be acknowledged by you;— may you love His word which is able to make you wise unto salvation; love his house where his great name is recorded; love the Sabbath-school, and the Missionary cause, and after your days on earth are finished, may your dying experience be like that of little Eliza Gore, and safely at last may you be conveyed to heaven, to live and reign with your blessed Redeemer, is the

prayer of

Your sincere friend,

ABRAHAM HYAMS.

HAIR-BREADTH ESCAPE.

SOMETIME since, in a country village, there lived a man noted for his drunken and irreligious habits. His conduct was most reckless; he had no fear of God before his eyes, nor any regard to the opinion of men. As a father he felt no concern about the interests of his family: in his house no voice of praise or prayer was heard. How could he feel for the souls of his children, when he neglected his own? or pray for others, while he forgot to pray for himself? Religion was no part of his business: he neither thought nor cared about it. God was not in all his thoughts. He was totally negligent. Yet he was not a persecutor: though he did not choose a religious life, he would not forbid his children to do so. His irreligion was

rather utter inattention, than active enmity.

There was a Sabbath-school in the village, and to it one of his children went. The child was attached to the school, and made considerable proficiency; but her father was not thereby won to the service of Jesus. Many at

tempts were made to induce him to attend the public worship of God on the Sabbath-but in vain; neither argument nor entreaties could prevail upon him. At length, however, the school festival drew nigh, at which it was customary for some of the children to recite pieces, and for some of the friends of the school to deliver suitable addresses; and the drunkard's child was chosen to take part in the recitations.

The day arrived-the long-wished-for day, and many little hearts beat joyously. It was a beautiful day: as if the universal Parent purposely smiled auspiciously on the occasion. The highest expectations were entertained: there was not one of the little company but loooked for a splendid treat, but there was one that meant to have a double share of the common bliss. That was the little daughter of the drunken man. Hers was a noble scheme: it was this. Of course she would be at the festival, and so would have as much pleasure as any one else as her own share; but she meant, if possible, to take her father with her, and by pleasing him increase her own enjoyments.

The task was difficult, and almost hopeless; but she was not to be daunted at the onset; whatever might be her success, she resolved to make the attempt. Approaching her father with a pleasing smile, and addressing him with beautiful tenderness and simplicity; she said, "Father, you know to-day is our festival, and I want you to go with me.' "Not I, indeed!" replied he. "But," she rejoined, "you must really go, or I shall be greatly disappointed. I have to say a very pretty piece, which you would like to hear; and some gentlemen will be there to make speeches, which would be sure to please you. Now, my dear father, don't say no; but make up your mind to go with me." In vain did he oppose and object. The child would listen to no excuse, and take no denial; so he consented, and went. With the performances of the children he was quite delighted: but his attention was principally arrested by an anecdote which one of the speakers related. The fact had no apparent connexion with the business of the evening, but it was not out of place, as we shall find. To the following effect

proceeded the speaker:-"How marvellous are the works of God! How intimate the connexion between providence and grace! how wonderful are the divine contrivances for the salvation of men! Well may we say, 'How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!' A fact will illustrate the sentiment. A gentleman, in passing along an uneven road, fell at the moment a vehicle was passing; and as he had fallen in the road, an accident or death seemed inevitable. The wheel actually passed over and crushed his hat, which had not come off in the fall; but he received not the slightest personal injury. Amazed and overcome by the thought of his narrow escape from death, for which he was unprepared, and regarding this as a special interposition of divine Providence to save him from eternal ruin-he there and then resolved to devote the remainder of his life to his merciful Preserver. He opened his mouth unto the Lord, nor did he go back: he remembered, and performed his vow. The broken hat he carried home with him; and in it he wrote, 'Preserved in Christ Jesus and called. Nor would he ever allow it to be removed from his house: he kept it as a memento of God's goodness to him—a record of the means by which he was converted! and delighted to point to his own case as an illustration of the inscription it bore.”

To this narrative the drunkard listened with indescribable emotions; for He, too, had fallen in the road: over his hat also a wheel had passed, crushed it and spared him; only thus far did the parallel hold. He felt his guilt and was wretched in his inmost soul he said, "God be merciful to me a sinner." The Spirit of God had wounded him so deeply, that only the balm of Gilead could heal the wound which had been made. He left the meeting, having become for the first time in his life an earnest seeker of mercy. His feelings cannot be described. The discoveries which had been made to him by the Spirit were appalling, but the day of his deliverance drew near. He at once gave up his wicked companions, broke off his own vicious practices, and set himself in earnest to seek the salvation of his soul. His heart was broken, his spirit was contrite,

and as a poor, undone, guilty, and penitent sinner, he drew nigh to God, endeavouring to venture upon the atonement He did truly repent, he strove to believe; nor did he strive in vain: the power was there, for the Author and Finisher of faith was present. He lifted his tearful eye to Jesus— it was the eye of faith; he stretched out his feeble hand -it was the hand of faith; and the hem of the Saviour's garment he touched; he was now a believer, and the Father of mercy had received him. Now he could say, "Lord I believe." Nor was old Simeon more happy when he said, "I have seen thy salvation." No such day had dawned upon him before; it was his spiritual birth-day, when he was born for God and heaven.

Of his conversion no room was left for doubt; the most sceptical could not question it; the change from utter irreligion to a holy life could be neither denied nor mistaken. His house now became a little house of God; and at the family altar were the morning and evening sacrifices regularly presented. He strove to train up his family for the Lord, and met with signal success, for he lived to see all his children grow up, converted to God, members of the Church to which he belonged, and active Sabbath school teachers.

What encouragement we have in these facts, to use all imaginable means for the salvation of souls, when God blesses such feeble instrumentalities! Even a child's invitation may lead a parent to God, and so be the instrument of a whole family's conversion.

THE CABIN-BOY.

A POOR widow had become very miserable since the death of her husband. She was full of painful anxiety, and was very often suffering for want of food, and endured great hardships. Her only son had just left school, and was so unhappy at the state to which his poor mother was reduced, that he went about everywhere, seeing what he could do to help her. "We must not die of hunger,"

said he one day: "let me go to sea; perhaps I may be able to earn something for you." His poor mother at last gave way to his entreaties; but it cost her a great deal to let him go, and almost broke her heart. The young boy went to the nearest seaport to see if he could get put on board a merchant-vessel. He asked a great many Captains to take him; but it was all in vain. After spending many days in going from one to the other, weary and sad, he thought he must return to his poor mother; but the thought of being a burden to her made him more desperately miserable. Just then he thought he saw another Captain looking at him. John (that was the boy's name) went up to him directly, and said, "Please, Sir, don't you want a cabin-boy ?" "I'm looking out for one here,” said the Captain. "O then, dear Sir, do take me!" "Show me your testimonials." "No one knows me here, Sir: if I were in my own parish, I could easily get some." "I can't take a boy into my ship without any recommendation." "O Sir, I'll be so obedient. I'll do whatever you bid me!” “O, that's very well to say, my good fellow; but, once for all, I say, I'll not have a boy without his certificates." Poor John thought a moment, and looked about him with great sadness. Suddenly he recollected he had got his Bible. He took it out of his pocket, and showed the captain what was written on the first page. "Will that do, Sir, for a testimonial?" The Captain read, "Given to John Reynolds as a reward for his good conduct in the Sundayschool." "Well, my boy, I'll take you on that recommendation. Follow me quickly to my ship."

John was now on board, on his way to St. Petersburg. After a few days, a violent storm arose, and the vessel was in danger of shipwreck. In the midst of the general confusion and alarm, John took out his Bible, and read the fifty-first Psalm aloud to them. He then knelt down, and earnestly prayed God to make the storm cease, and to save them from its fury. One by one, the sailors, and even the Captain, gathered round him, fell on their knees, and prayed with him. It pleased God to hear their prayer: the wind ceased, and the ship went on its way in safety.